L’ENVOI.
My departure from Paris came about in rather a curious way. In April and
May, 1906, we had a visit from the late Dean Barlow (of Peterboro’). For
the first of May (“Labour Day”) we had arranged a Drawing-room Meeting
for the Dean on behalf of the Colonial and Continental Church Society,
whose work in Canada was, and is, attracting so much attention in
religious circles. It turned out, however, to be one of those “scares”
with which Paris is sometimes afflicted, and the idea having got abroad
that something dreadful was about to happen, only three people turned up!
The Dean was very kind about it, and notwithstanding the small number
present, gave us a most interesting account of his recent visit to
Canada. The next morning when he was leaving, he turned to me and said,
“Noyes, how long have you been here?” I told him nearly sixteen years,
and added, “You must not leave me here too long.” The Dean had very
considerable influence in Church patronage, and when he wrote to me in
the spring of 1907, he said, “Do you remember what you said to me when
I was leaving your house last year? Well, I have ventured to put your
name forward for an important Church in London.” So slight often are the
incidents which bring about changes in our lives. I had never heard of
St. Mary’s, Kilburn, or been in this part of London before I came over
to see the Church.
The saying “good-bye” is always trying, and especially after a long
ministry among such a devoted congregation as I had in Paris. I preached
a farewell sermon to a large congregation on Friday, June 9th, 1907, and
although I struggled hard against it, completely broke down.
The next day I had to face a large gathering in the Washington Palace,
to receive a most gratifying testimonial. The spacious room was crowded,
and the kind expressions of regret almost overwhelming. It was here I was
able to make the announcement that I had received a few days previously
from a generous donor, who wished to remain anonymous, the magnificent
gift of £4,000 towards the Paris Church House.
The following account appeared in the papers of the succeeding day:—
“At the Washington Palace this afternoon took place the presentation
by Mr. Percy Inglis, British Consul-General, to the Rev. H. E. Noyes,
D.D., of the testimonial from the congregation of the church in the
Rue d’Aguesseau, consisting of an illuminated address, a cheque, and
a flagon, in the presence of a large gathering, among whom were Sir
Henry Austin Lee, Doctor Sewell, Mr. H. Millington Drake, the Very
Rev. Father McMullan, Mr. Lammin, Mr. Le Cocq, and Mr. Coleman. Mr.
Inglis read, amid great applause, the address, which is a tribute to
the excellent work performed by Doctor Noyes during his sixteen years’
residence in Paris. In his reply Doctor Noyes related all that had been
done for the charitable and other institutions of the colony during
that period, and spoke very feelingly of the hearty support which he
had received throughout from the Embassy and all its members. He noted
this as especially interesting, that during that time he had seen four
Ambassadors at the mansion in the Faubourg Saint Honoré, and no fewer
than five Presidents of the Republic. Great enthusiasm was displayed when
the reverend gentleman announced that he had received last week from a
donor whose name could not be revealed the magnificent sum of 100,000
frs. for the contemplated clergy house. Afterwards Doctor and Mrs. Noyes
took a hearty farewell of all their friends, with the expression of the
hope that they would meet again in Paris and at their new home in London.”
My successor, as is well known, is the Right Rev. Bishop Ormsby (late of
Honduras), and it is a curious circumstance that when I was curate of St.
Matthias’s Church in Dublin, one of the congregation was Judge Ormsby,
the father of the Bishop.
I left Paris with many regrets, and often have wondered since whether I
had not been there too long to leave it. But the die is cast, and I can
only now in quiet moments wander in thought over the familiar scenes, and
think of the many kind friends, the memory of whom will never fade.